


A Single Step

by authoressnebula (authoressjean)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bobby Singer's Panic Room, Brotherly Love, Episode: s04e22 Lucifer Rising, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: s04e22 Lucifer Rising, Protective Dean Winchester, Season/Series 04, panic room ptsd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:34:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27983889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/authoressjean/pseuds/authoressnebula
Summary: Based on a prompt:Running, the boys have to use Bobby's panic room. Stepping through that door is hard.Bobby was already inside, Dean following after him.And Sam. Couldn't. Move.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 16
Kudos: 166





	A Single Step

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LiveJournal May 2009.

Sam thought the ride to South Dakota was going to be the hardest part. Maryland to South Dakota was no small stretch, and the car was only so big. The air was only so much.  
  
But it actually wound up being easier than he thought. Ever since Dean had dragged Sam out of the convent, there'd been something...better between them. Something that seemed to diminish, for the moment at least, everything they'd put first for the last few days. Weeks. Months.  
  
And god, Sam hadn't even wanted to leave, wanted to stay and face Lucifer or go down trying for everything he'd caused, but Dean. Dean hadn't let go of him, had pulled him towards the door the minute the light shot up and out of the convent.  
  
Dean still wasn't letting go, in a way. Sam didn't know if he was seeking as much reassurance as Sam was, but they were together and Dean was rambling on about _damn bastard angels_ and _gotta call Chuck_ and _you hungry when's the last time you ate_ but more importantly _it's gonna be okay_ beneath it all.  
  
And Sam had fought to talk through his grief and guilt, tried to tell Dean that it was going to be okay in his own words and ways. After awhile, though, Sam just...couldn't. Kept trying, but it never worked. The words faltered and the attempts were struggled with, and god help Dean but his brother didn't stop. Took the little pieces Sam was able to give and ran with them, seeming relieved with just the tiny bits he was getting. And it wasn't fair to Dean but Dean apparently understood that Sam was reeling out of control. Held on all the tighter for it, and slowly Sam started to feel grounded.  
  
The trip, though long, didn't wind up being difficult. They took turns driving, the other one sleeping, neither of them wanting to stop (though when Dean handed the wheel to Sam it was all Sam could do from crying at the still-there trust). Things weren't talked over, though both of them knew truths had to come out, and god Sam wasn't looking forward to telling Dean what he'd done.  
  
Still, the trip wasn't terrible. Sam then worried about seeing Bobby again, but even as he'd hunched into himself, even as Dean had tried to get him to un-hunch Bobby had emerged from the house. Hadn't even paused, just grabbed Sam close and hugged the daylights out of him. Sam had swayed, feeling dizzy and lightheaded from relief and gratitude, and he'd grabbed hold of Bobby's vest just to keep from falling.  
  
Meeting with Bobby had been tough, but the loosening of something in Sam's chest had been worth it. It hadn't been the hardest part, though.  
  
No, the hardest part, the one Sam hadn't even anticipated or considered, had been their heading downstairs. He'd merely followed Bobby and Dean down, hurrying and not even paying attention, and it wasn't until the sound of the metal door opening did he stop and realize where they were going.  
  
The panic room. The lights were on and the cot was back against the wall. The shelves were back in place, a desk and chair right next to them. Several barrels labeled 'Biohazard' were resting on the opposite side of the door, no doubt containing something like holy water. Bobby was already inside, Dean following after him.  
  
And Sam. Couldn't. Move.  
  
He could see the motion of the fan through its shadow on the floor and remembered staring up at the fan, wondering crazily if he could move from underneath the trap or if he'd be stuck. Remembered the feeling of the wall against his back, the stiffness of the cot, the restraints hard against his wrists and ankles-  
  
“Sam?”  
  
Sam jerked out of the memories and looked instead at Dean who was calling him. Dean frowned and repeated, “Sam? What-” and he reached for Sam to drag him in and lock him in and leave him there-  
  
Sam didn't even know he'd backed up until his back hit the stairway. Dean instantly froze, hand still outstretched towards Sam, eyes wide in realization and what looked like regret. “Sammy,” he breathed, and it sounded like regret, too.  
  
Oh god. He hadn't even thought about this having to be the hardest part, and Sam shook his head to separate himself from the memories. Bobby and Dean were locking themselves in with him until they heard back from Chuck or Castiel and knew that the coast was clear. He didn't...god, he _deserved_ to be locked back in there. He'd let...he'd let Lucifer _out_ , hadn't listened to Dean who'd been right. Even now, Dean wasn't accusing him, just wanted him to be safe, and that was in the panic room.  
  
Sam took a deep, shuddering breath in and stepped back over towards the room. He got as far as Dean, almost to the span of the door, and stopped again. Just another step. Just another step, and he'd be in.  
  
Dean's hand on his shoulder made him back pedal again, his breathing short and shaky. “Easy,” Dean said softly. Hesitantly, “Sammy, we have to get in-”  
  
“I know, I know, I just...” Sam ground the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I just need a minute. That's all.” Just a minute, and he could step into the room and not see his face cracking open or Alistair waiting for him or Dean cursing at him before he slammed the door shut and oh god, they weren't gonna have to close the door, were they?  
  
Something wrapped around him, and Sam jerked and tried to escape. Seconds later the unmistakable feeling of his brother's chin rested on his shoulder, and Sam realized he was being _hugged_. “I'm sorry,” Dean whispered. Just two words, two arms, one chin.  
  
And somehow, it made all the difference.  
  
Sam rested his own chin on his brother's shoulder and wrapped his arms around Dean, his fingers entwining themselves in the folds of his brother's shirt. He remembered the last time he'd held onto his brother like this, almost a year ago, and the thought made him shut his eyes tight and hang on even tighter. Dean pulled him in impossibly closer, and for a moment, there was no apocalypse, no lies, no betrayals, no Lucifer. Just the two of them. Brothers.  
  
Dean finally pulled away and managed a weak grin. “I'm coming in with you this time,” he said. “And I'm not leaving without you.”  
  
Sam nodded and waited for Dean to step into the panic room. His brother held out a hand to pull him through, open palm facing the ceiling.  
  
Hardest part now, obviously. There'd be later, harder parts when they finally talked and everything got laid out on the table. Now, though, Sam knew that Dean wasn't leaving, and Sam wasn't leaving Dean.  
  
He took his brother's hand and stepped through the open doorway.


End file.
